


Structural Integrity

by Fightyourdragon



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, IKEA Furniture, Innuendo, M/M, New Year's Eve, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:25:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fightyourdragon/pseuds/Fightyourdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Q assemble an IKEA coffee table. Alcohol is involved. As are many sexual innuendos. And a robot. Because of course there's a robot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Structural Integrity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rerumfragmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rerumfragmenta/gifts).



> This is a gift for Rerumfragmenta for the tumblr 00Q New Year's Eve Party fic exchange. The prompt was, "Q and Bond talk while trying to assemble IKEA furniture. They’d like to see estabilished relationship, fluff, innuendos." Hopefully I managed all of that for you my dear! 
> 
> As ever, many thanks to the incredible Hedwig-Dordt for being the best beta reader a woman could ask for! She poked me and put up with my ridiculousness until this made sense for you lovely readers : )

 

In case you haven't seen Friends, [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tam7KO4qhUI%20) is the clip from the episode James is quoting : )

 

 

  
“Pivot! PIVOT!” James shouts dramatically as he and Q maneuver the long thin IKEA a box around the corner and into the door of Eve’s office.   
  
“Stop quoting _Friends_! I should’ve done worse than ruin the credit score of that damn woman who made you watch an entire season!” Q groans, rolling his eyes then laughing as James trips backwards and lands on his arse. The box narrowly misses landing on a rather sensitive area.  
  
James just grins as he gets up and helps drag the box the rest of the way into the room. “Come on, you know you were impressed with my interrogational technique on that mission! I didn’t even have to sleep with her. A few pints of ice cream, some silly American comedy, and a few hours bitching about how evil men can be and she handed me everything I wanted as long as I promised to make her bastard ex pay. Plus, I got to brag about what an amazing boyfriend you are during the ‘I promise there’s someone out there for you’ phase to seal the deal.”   
  
“The absolute worst thing about you is that it’s impossible to stay mad at you,” Q huffs with a smile of his own.   
  
“Tell that to Eve. Missing the first annual Q-branch New Year’s party to build her a coffee table…” James shakes his head. “Power has gone to her head I tell you!” he laments as he pulls a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and begins cutting the box open.   
  
“Seriously? You put bullet holes in her last one in a fit of boredom! You’re lucky she didn’t just shoot you again rather than demand an immediate trip to IKEA for a replacement.”   
  
“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.”  
  
“I’m here aren’t I? I _could_ be downstairs enjoying some of accounting’s not-so-secretly brewed beer and the new 002’s lustful glances.” Q sighs wistfully, then waits for James’ predictable and shiver-inducing reaction.   
  
James’ eyes flash dangerously. His jaw works and his hands clench into fists as he growls and launches himself at Q. He gets a hand behind Q’s neck and pulls him in for a possessive kiss. “If he gets one centimeter too close the position of 002 will be open again.”   
  
Q pulls James in and returns the kiss with equal vigor. “You know full well I can end him just as easily as you can,” he smirks. “But you’re extra hot when you get all jealous and protective. Besides, he’s too terrified of you to make a move.”   
  
“As he should be,” James purrs, mouthing his way down to nibble on Q’s earlobe.   
  
“Down boy,” Q laughs, pushing James away. “Nice try, but no sex until this table is finished.”  
  
“It was worth a try,” James replies with a wink as he reluctantly goes back to opening the box. “Definitely a good incentive to get this done as quickly as possible. Surely a genius like you can put a prefab table together in ten minutes or so.”  
  
Q sits down next to James with a wry smile. “Clearly you’ve never put together Ikea furniture.”  
  
“How hard can it be?” James asks as he opens the box and pulls out the instructions on top. “Hey, It’s just a bunch of pictures.” He eyes a picture of a pudgy little guy with a hammer and screwdriver in a speech bubble, and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I think this guy wants to know if you’d prefer to be pounded or screwed.”  
  
“So it’s going to be like that, is it? Darling, since when have you ever won the innuendo game?” Q asks teasingly, turning the page to look at the next set of pictures depicting figures next to piles of boards with an X over the figure who is alone. “When dealing with hard wood, it’s best to handle it with a partner,” he drawls, sliding a table leg out of the box and running a hand suggestively along its length.   
  
James licks his lips. “Hmmm, you may be better but I can still enjoy playing.”   
  
Q grins as he opens his messenger bag and pulls out a hammer, screw driver, small bottle of Scotch and two shot glasses. “Let’s make it fun then. A shot for every lewd double-entendre?”  
  
“I knew I loved you for a reason,” James smirks as he opens the bottle and pours them each a shot then sets them aside.  
  
“And here I thought it was because of the two years I’ve put up with your arse and indulged your juvenile sense of humor.”  
  
“My arse is a national treasure, love. There is definitely no putting up with going on here,” James replies then laughs and ducks the flying messenger bag.  
  
“Damn it, I can’t even argue with that. Still, for that comment you get to open up all the stupid little bags they stick the parts into.” Q reaches into the box and pulls out a plastic bag filled with smaller plastic bags and tosses it to James.   
  
“Ah. I see what you mean,” James sighs as he begins dumping the contents of the tiny bags into piles. “We’ll be lucky if we finish before midnight.”  
  
“If I can hack a NASA satellite and broadcast a message from friendly aliens in under three hours, I think I can slide a few shafts into a few holes in that amount of time as well.” Q gives James a sly look.  
  
“That’s what he said,” James retorts. “And that was one of your finest moments. Best first date ever.” He holds up his glass in a toast and they both drink.   
  
Things degenerate fairly quickly from that point.   
  
  
Q laughs as James holds up a table leg, trying to sort out which side it belongs on. “Compensating for something?”  
  
“Obvious,” James complains as he pours them each a drink.  
  


  
Q resists giving advice for as long as he can, because James looks frankly adorable as he tries to work the tiny allen wrench that came with the kit. As long as he can is about fifteen seconds. “You can’t just jam it in there and wiggle it around! You need to be gentle with it and use your wrist, not just your fingers.”  
  
James snickers and looks at Q significantly.  
  
“Don’t even bother saying it,” Q grins as he pours them each another shot.

  
  
“This can’t possibly be right,” James observes as he taps the leg he just put in and watches it tip to the side.   
  
Q looks at the pile of hardware lying beside James’ knee. “That’s because you used the wrong screws again! It’s not going to work if it can’t even keep stiff,” he laughs. Ah, apparently his silly-when-drunk side is already showing.    
  
“I’ll show you stiff as a board,” James promises with a wink as he pours them each another shot.    
  


  
Q grabs the hammer from James in a show of teasing frustration. “You can’t just pound away at it! You need to work it gently into the hole.”   
  
James snickers and pours the drinks. 

  
  
“Just give me the damn nut,” Q orders as he watches James poke the allen wrench in and out of it suggestively.   
  
“Close enough,” James declares as he hands it over then picks up the bottle. 

  
  
“Just stick it in the hole!” James grits out, his abs and cheeks aching from laughter as he holds two legs steady so Q can put the cross-bar in.   
  
“It won’t fit!” Q protests, his eyes damp from laughing so hard.  
  
“Yes it will, just push harder!” James manages, shaking with mirth as Q drunkenly attempts to put the last pole between the legs. Which is another unhelpful thought. 

  
  
The table is finally and rather miraculously complete about the time the whiskey is gone. They struggle to turn it upright since by this point Q is completely and hilariously drunk.   
  
“Tell anyone how long it took me to assemble a fucking IKEA coffee table and I will do...ah...insert something sufficiently menacing here,” Q finishes lamely with an incongruously regal wave of his hand as he leans awkwardly against the table.   
  
Half a dozen lewd comebacks spring to mind, but James just shakes his head. “I can’t, it’s just too easy.” He prowls closer then lifts Q up and sets him on the table. Q reacts by automatically wrapping his arms around James for support, which is a nice bonus. “How do we know we did it right though? It would be terribly irresponsible of us not to test it for strength,” he purrs into Q’s ear as he guides his adorably drunken boyfriend to lie back so his head is resting at the far end of the table and his arse is right up to the closest edge.   
  
“Terribly irresponsible,” Q agrees, fumbling at the fastenings of his trousers. “I mean, what good is a coffee table if you can’t even use it for sex?”   
  
“Sound logic,” James grins, batting Q’s fingers away. He has to pause to get Q’s shoes off, but in a few moments he has his lover gloriously half-naked. He scoots in close and kisses his way up Q’s thighs.  
  
“Tease me too long and we’ll miss the entire party,” Q warns, pulling James in closer with his heels.   
  
“Seems likely regardless,” James replies. “You know how long you take with this much whiskey in you.” He nips at Q’s hipbone. “And how much I love that about you.”  
  
“Well we may as well end the year right,” Q pants, scrabbling at James’ shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. James, the bastard, doesn’t cooperate. Instead he slides his tongue lower. Well, this works too, Q decides. It’s the last coherent thought he has for quite a while.   
  
“I’d say it’s structurally sound,” James murmurs against his sated boyfriend’s lips a good half an hour later.   
  
“I don’t know, I think we’d better make extra sure,” Q replies when he can find his voice again. He slides off of the table and grabs a bottle of lube out of his bag, hands it to James, then drapes his chest over the coffee table with his head pillowed on his crossed arms.   
  
“I don’t think that angle is going to work” James says reluctantly, because he doesn’t want the hard edge of the table hurting Q.  
  
“This is just so you can get me ready,” Q replies, shaking his arse teasingly. “I figured you could sit on the table and I would just sit on your lap. I mean, if it can’t support the weight of two people it’s a rather useless piece of furniture,” he adds sensibly.  
  
James’ mind shorts out for a moment. “That’s. Oh. Yes, we should definitely be thorough in our testing,” he agrees as he coats his fingers with lube and rubs them together to warm it up. As he gently slides them into Q’s tight heat, he wonders how the hell he ever got so lucky.   
  
  
They do in fact make it to the party before midnight. Exactly six minutes before. It turns out that while the coffee table is excellent for sex, it is not so good for post-sex cuddling. The large leather chair in Mallory’s office however, is _perfect_. Not for the first time they have reason to be grateful for the fact that Q controls the security footage in the building.   
  
When they finally wade into the chaos of loud music, dancing colleagues, a riot of glittery streamers and a sodding disco ball, Eve is the first one to greet them. She’s clearly had some of the cafeteria workers’ not-so-secret vodka because she is teetering on her silver spike heels.  
  
“You finally made it! I was starting to think you just went somewhere else to celebrate. Love the hair, Q darling, it’s even more sexed-up than usual,” Eve lilts as she ruffles it.   
  
“Thank you,” Q winks. “Your new coffee table is finished. And just so you know, it’s fully...functional.”  
  
Eve jerks her hand back as if Q’s hair is infested with snakes. “Oh my god. Tell me you did not just fuck on my poor innocent coffee table!” She turns to glare at James.   
  
James looks shifty.   
  
“You did! You bastard!” Eve punches James hard on the arm.   
  
“Run Q!” James cries, giving Q a shove and ducking a second punch.   
  
Q runs, laughing and dodging the inebriated flailing that passes for dancing at this point in the evening. He heads for the door to the tunnels and punches in a code, diving through the door with James close at his heels. He slams it shut before Eve can follow them, and a motion-detecting light flickers on.   
  
“Well, this isn’t exactly the location I’d envisioned for our midnight kiss, though in retrospect I’m not sure why not,” James says, pulling Q close and kissing him just because he can. Because he’s happy. Because for once the world isn’t falling apart and they’re together.  
  
“Still better than last year,” Q points out. “At least we’re on the same continent.”   
  
“We are.” James backs Q against the door and kisses him again.    
  
“In the same room even,” Q adds, nipping at James’ lower lip. Then he catches a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye. He stiffens. “Ah.”  
  
“That didn’t sound like a good kind of ah,” James sighs. He checks his watch. Thirty seconds to go.    
  
“I don’t suppose you recall my telling you about that prototype perimeter defense robot I was working on for use in guarding the tunnels…”  
  
“Don’t even tell me,” James groans, reaching into his pocket for his Swiss Army knife, which is the only weapon he has on him at the moment.   
  
“It’s not terribly dangerous yet. I think. Well, it does shoot rather powerful tranq darts and it's programmed to self-destruct if it’s damaged enough to become immobilized. If we run we’ll be safe though, it has a tiny blast radius and that door was made for bomb shelters so no one inside is in danger.”  
  
“But I need to immobilize it before it immobilizes us.”  
  
“Think of it as a training exercise. Can’t let you get rusty by having evenings off from chaos and danger,” Q smirks, though his tone is apologetic. “It won’t do anything unless we move suddenly.”  
  
“Well I have exactly one knife to throw, so where do I hit it?” James asks, carefully not moving and blocking Q’s body with his own.   
  
Q peeks over James’ shoulder at the vaguely Dalek-shaped robot that is frozen a few meters away. “There’s an open panel right below where the gun is sticking out. That should short it out.”  
  
“Shoddy craftsmanship, love,” James teases.  
  
“Shut up, I told you it’s a work in progress!”   
  
“Just get ready to run.” James glances at his watch again and notes that midnight has come and gone. “Well, better luck next year I guess,” he grins. He kisses Q quickly, turns and throws the knife, then grabs Q’s hand and runs away from the already smoking and sparking robot.  
  
“You have to admit, starting the new year with shit blowing up is basically a good omen when it comes to us!” Q pants, still running as the tunnel lights up briefly when the robot explodes behind them.   
  
“That’s a fair point,” James agrees as they slow to a stop and turn to survey the wreckage. “And the fire does lend a certain romance to the evening,” he admits as he backs Q against the wall. “Now, where were we?”  
  
“Wishing each other a happy New Year,” Q whispers against James’ lips. Ah well. For them, this is about as romantic as it gets.   
  


 

 


End file.
